Dreaming of Spring
My dad is in town this week. This means that he and I have been doing all kinds of lovely dull things, like going to the hardware store, sanding and re-painting the kitchen stairs railing, burning brush piles out back, and baking pasties (weird miner food that are basically like little turnovers with meat and potatoes and rutabagas; it’s a Minnesota/Wisconsin thing).
There is nothing quite like being outdoors on an unseasonably warm Winter’s day. The sunlight is thin, and barely warms the people crawling on the surface of the earth far below. I lie on my back in the brown grass and gaze at the sky, that particular pale shade of remote blue that you only see in Wintertime, the tips of bare trees crowding the edges of my vision, listening to the crackling of the fire by my side, smelling the ghosts of summer’s grass about me and the peculiar smoke produced by dry wood and Ed’s Red.* I close my eyes and dream of Spring.
*Ed’s Red is a home-brew gun cleaner containing, among other things, transmission fluid.
January 4th, 2007 at 7:02 pm
valhalladay is this saturday, so if you can, you should come to clifton. *kisses*